


Sunshine

by RhymePhile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-03
Updated: 2009-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymePhile/pseuds/RhymePhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a bad cold and Sam lies down to take a nap with him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://siberian-skys.livejournal.com/profile)[**siberian_skys**](http://siberian-skys.livejournal.com/) prompted me

  
Sam eased the door to their room shut with his foot, trying to be as quiet as possible while balancing two grocery bags at the same time. The muffled groan from the bed told him he hadn't been successful.

"I guess you're awake then."

Dean put his arm over his eyes to shield them from the afternoon sun. "I couldn't sleep."

"You should have tried. We're stuck here until you get better."

"I would have managed in the car," Dean grumbled, sniffing pitiably.

"With a fever like that? Bobby would kill me."

"_I'm_ gonna kill you if you don't stop playing nursemaid."

Sam placed the Ny-Quil, tissues, and cough drops on the bedside table. "Well, you're no good to us sick, so the sooner you get better the sooner we can get back on the road."

Dean propped himself up on the pillows. "I'm fine."

"You had a 103 degree fever."

"I'm hot," Dean smirked.

Sam tossed a bottle of Gatorade and a box of Tylenol at him. "Take two of those. I don't want to have to deal with what I did last night."

"Which was what?" Dean asked.

"You were talking out of your head because of the high fever. I had to throw you in the shower to get your temperature down." Sam looked at him sideways. "And you didn't make it easy."

"No?"

Sam placed boxes of Ramen noodles and bottles of water on the dresser. "You were pulling my hair."

Dean tried hard not to laugh, but failed and wound up coughing himself hoarse. "Shit, Sammy, sorry about that," he finally said.

"Uh-huh."

"What did you mean by 'talking out of my head'?"

"It's like you hallucinate, only with conversations. It's been a long time since that's happened."

"When was that?"

"I must have been, oh, around 12, I guess. We were in Wisconsin, I think, and dad was gone. You'd been sick for a few days, and then you woke me up in the middle of the night having this long talk with the wall."

"That must have been weird," Dean grinned.

Sam motioned for Dean to move over and then sat down next to him on the bed. "Scared the hell out of me, actually."

"How come?"

"You were talking to Mom."

Dean didn't know what to say to that, so he simply lay back against his pillow.

"It took me a second before I realized you were sick and weren't...you know..."

"Talking to her ghost," Dean finished, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, but by then I knew I should have seen her, too." Sam reached over for the pillow from his bed, and then stretched himself out next to Dean. "She would have tried to talk to both of us."

"She probably would have sung to you," Dean said.

"What do you mean?"

"She used to sing to you all the time."

Sam looked over at him. "She did?"

"Every night to get you to fall asleep," Dean answered, eyes still closed. "I don't remember a whole lot from back then, but that...that I can't forget."

"What was it?"

"The song? Something with sunshine. And gray skies."

"'You Are My Sunshine'?"

"I dunno, Sammy," Dean mumbled. "It was a long time ago."

Sam began to sing softly.

"'_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine/  
You make me happy when skies are gray/  
You'll never know dear, how much I love you/  
Please don't take my sunshine away_.'"

He glanced over at Dean. "Was that the one, Dean?"

There was no answer. His brother was sound asleep.

  
**Note from Rhyme**: This smacks of some truth, as my brother used to get high fevers as a kid and do the same thing. He'd have these long conversations with people who weren't there. We were home alone one time when he was sick and I had to call my mom at work to ask her what to do because he was scaring me. I followed her instructions and got him into the shower to cool him off. I'll assume 12-year-old Sammy had more life experience than I did as a 13-year-old home alone with her sick younger brother.


End file.
